


Where Duties Lie

by musamortem



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musamortem/pseuds/musamortem
Summary: He wanted his kingdom. She wanted her freedom; and their unexpected journey will test where duties lie.





	Where Duties Lie

You stood in the shadows, as was your place since birth. The murmurs of the dwarves at the table had become white noise to your ears, but you remained observant. With one hand on the hilt of your sword and the other at your side, you took on your position against the wall keeping a watchful eye on the ambassador of the Red Mountains, Darroc, while the other envoys made their way out of the room. The dark-haired dwarf conducting the meeting stood with his hands behind his back at the end of the table - a soldier’s posture - as they said their goodbyes.

“My deepest apologies, Thorin,” your Lord began from his seat. The prince bowed his head and turned to the hearth beside the long table. “I know how much our numbers would have benefitted your cause. Do not doubt that your cause is just.”

“Your words are greatly appreciated,” Thorin stated. “But words will not restore the Arkenstone to our people. If there is anyone that could convince a dragon to abandon his hoard with mere words, you must let me know. I’ve a couple clan leaders that need a good lecture.”

“Yes indeed,” he said. Darroc chuckled before leaning forward in his seat. His greying eyebrows furrowed as he stroked his equally grey beard in to a straight line down his chin. The coarse hair made the facial hair rest in a peculiar angle. Typical Stiffbeard. His rotund belly made it difficult to rest his arms on his knees so he folded his hands on the table.

“My sister sends her regards,” Thorin said. “She misses her confidante you know.”

“Lady Dagny will be glad to hear of her. She remains unwed and still holds favor for you, Thorin. I must ask if my cousin’s waiting is all for naught. It would be appropriate to know whether these suitors are being unnecessarily turned away.”

“She has always graced us with her patience - a trait that I admire among our people. Rest assured she will have her place beside me. This contract was sealed by our fathers for the benefit of both our people. We will not see it forgotten. Sons of Durin never go back on their word.”

“It pleases me that Your Highness still plans to marry the Princess; however, we shouldn’t delay such matters. I understand you do not want to marry until Erebor is secured?”

“Agreed. I wish to have Princess Dagny seated as Queen of Erebor during the ceremony.”

“Then allow me to provide you with my personal guard to assist you in your journey.”

Thorin did not turn toward his cousin nor did he turn away. The fire warmed his face, but his eyes remained cold. The reminder of his betrothal had made him reluctant in his youth. Now aged and a seasoned warrior, Thorin began to think of the repercussions on his people instead of himself. Should the marriage go wrong, Thorin would lose his foothold among the dwarven clans that would connect the North and East. He would lose his trade with the North - precious supplies needed to rekindle the forges of Erebor - and the East where trade was beginning to rival the days of Dale and Esgaroth. The dwarves of the West would find themselves barred by the Northern dwarves to trade west of the mountains. Erebor would starve before it is rebuilt.

“Y/N,” Darroc beckoned.

You stood from your position against the wall and met Thorin’s gaze. Only a few seconds had passed, but never had you felt more exposed. His eyes took your appearance in. Your garb was of decent cloth and layered with thin armor beneath your tunic. Your stature was strong through years of intense training, but it was your eyes that made him curious. You felt he could see your every secret and corner. Your mind shuddered at such a gaze, but your face was stone.

This is what it meant to look into the eyes of royalty.

“I wish to provide you with my best and only the best,” your master began. “She is a formidable warrior. Trained alongside my second son, Varroc, and skilled with both axe and bow. I believe, however, her preference is knives. Am I right?”

“Yes, my Lord,” you replied. You heard the deep rumble of content come from Darroc but glanced at the King Under the Mountain who seemed unamused.

“Gratitude for your offer, but I need an army not another mouth to feed and finance,” he said.

“I assure you, Your Highness, she will prove to be an asset. Think of it as a payment on Lady Dagny’s dowry. Claim the mountain and I’ll trade the guard for your bride. She’ll be a reminder of what lies within the mountain and a great step forward to this fruitful union.”

He remained silent. You despised being reduced to a token to be bought and bartered with; however, your loyalty silenced you. You loved Darroc like a father, but this was not the time to question his decision. It was far from reality but you knew that he could easily cast you aside with the wave of his hand. In doing so, you would lose the family you’d come to love.

You must have been too deep in thought to miss Thorin’s brief nod.

The round dwarf stood with a grin beneath his beard. He reached over to you and clapped a large hand on your shoulder. It was a steady reminder of how strong the old dwarf used to be in his prime. Warm but always stern. How many did he kill before living a life of politics? The thought still made you shudder.

“So be it then!” Darroc cheered. “Mahal be with you both.”


End file.
